


You've Really Got a Hold On Me

by hermioneclone



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Blangst, Denial of Feelings, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:39:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermioneclone/pseuds/hermioneclone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by what he views is the betrayal of his closest friends, Blaine turns to his boyfriend for comfort. It doesn't quite go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Really Got a Hold On Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is set immediately after the events of 6x02 when Blaine accuses the New New New Directions of poaching Jane from him. As such, Blaine isn't in the best frame of mind. I don't think this qualifies as dub-con, but I also want to make clear that this isn't a comfortable fic to read. So heads up.
> 
> Also, I will ignore/delete any comments raging against Dave/him dating Blaine. I get that not everyone is into it for valid reasons, but I think it has some interesting dynamics to explore (beyond this fic, because after 6x03 I think I have a much different understanding of their relationship) even if I still want Klaine to be endgame. If you don't like Dave or him dating Blaine, don't waste your time reading/hating on this fic.
> 
> Anyways, here goes nothing. :)

Blaine fought back the urge to cry as he stumbled his way through the familiar McKinley parking lot towards his car. He refused to let himself be affected by those traitors. He could expect this behavior from Kurt; the last few months or their relationship had proved to him that his ex could be a vindictive sonofabitch who didn’t care squat about how Blaine felt. The stupid toothpaste incident proved it. But Rachel? They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to be making fucking lemonade with the lemons life threw their way, not squirting the juice in each others eyes. And Sam. His supposed best friend. Of course when push came to shove he’d chose _Rachel_ over Blaine because of fucking McKinley loyalty that didn’t seem to apply to Blaine. Ever.

He finally reached his vehicle, wrenching open his door before flinging himself inside. He fumbled with his phone, quickly bringing up Dave’s number, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over him. Dave was so...different. It was nice with him, easy in a way that made no sense. They shared history but not in the same messy way that he did with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Blaine shook his head, banishing thoughts on that subject; it would only add fuel to the fire burning in the pit of his stomach. He punched send furiously, tapping his left hand impatiently against his knee as the device rang in his ear. “Hey boo, what’s up?” Dave’s voice asked, filling his ear in an almost otherworldly way.

“Can I come over?” Blaine asked, hating how desperate his voice sounded.

“Of course you can, anytime,” Dave reminded him. “Drive safe, okay? I’ll order pizza and we can talk about it.”

“Great,” Blaine lied; the last thing he felt like doing right now was talking about his feelings. But seeing Dave was a better alternative to going home crying alone in his room. Besides, maybe Dave could actually cheer him up.

The drive over was a big blur; Blaine couldn’t even be sure that he stopped at any of the traffic lights along the way and frankly he was lucky that he rolled up to Dave’s apartment in one piece. But the monotony of the road rushing underneath him had dulled his anger into something more powerful, something numbing that almost felt good. He walked determinedly up the front path, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Dave to answer the doorbell. “Hey babe,” Dave greeted, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Bad day?”

Blaine forced a smile onto his face. “I’ve had worse. I’m just glad I have you.”

Dave’s face melted into an adoringly pleased look that made something twist uneasily in Blaine’s stomach, though he shoved it aside before he could analyze it. “I’m not going anywhere. Come on, pizza just got here, we’ll snuggle up on the couch and watch the Packers hammer the Pats.”

Blaine twisted his mouth, hating the way Dave’s face fell the instant he saw rejection written in his features. “I’m not really feeling up for football tonight,” he informed him, his voice steely and tightly wound.

“Okaaay,” Dave replied. “I’m sure we can find something on Netflix that you’d like better, what was that musical you were trying to get me to watch?”

“No,” Blaine reiterated, closing the gap between them. “I was thinking something a little more...physical.”

Dave swallowed heavily, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Blaine, are you sure?” The use of his real name threw him a little; he’d grown accustomed to the pet names, something Kurt had never really been comfortable using. “I know we’ve talked about this, and I know we’ve fooled around before, but I just thought with Kurt back in town and everything…”

“I don’t want to talk about _Kurt_ ,” Blaine replied sharply, rubbing his boyfriend’s arm when he noticed a slight wince at the tone. “I’d rather talk about you. And by talk, I mean moving my mouth against yours. How’s that sound?”

“Blaine…”

“Dave....”

Dave sighed heavily. “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure about this, okay?”

“I am,” Blaine whispered so convincingly that he almost believed it himself. He looped his arms around Dave’s neck, pulling him down into a fierce kiss.

“Bedroom?” Dave asked, pulling back slightly.

“Okay,” Blaine replied firmly, taking his boyfriend’s hand, letting himself be led out of the room. Dave fell backwards onto the mattress, pulling Blaine with him. They spent several moments frantically exploring each other's mouths before Dave pulled back suddenly. “Condoms. I don’t have any.”

Blaine arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? Not even after last week?”

“I haven’t had a chance to get to the drugstore,” Dave confessed sheepishly. “And like I said...I thought it’d be a moot point.”

“Luckily for you, I always come prepared,” Blaine informed him, digging his wallet out and fishing around for the spare metallic packet he always kept there in case of emergency. He pressed the condom, Kurt’s favorite kind his mind reminded him, into the palm of Dave’s hand. “Now that we’ve got that covered…”

“Not yet…” Dave quipped with a sly grin that Blaine quickly kissed off his face.

“I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

The hesitance returned to Dave’s face in full force. “Blaine…”

“I know what I want, honey,” Blaine reminded him firmly. “The question is can you give it to me?”

Dave smirked. “I think I can rise to the occasion.”

The next half hour flew by in a rush that felt like eternity, but not in the soul-soaring way that Blaine desperately wanted it to be. He returned the gesture as Dave kissed him like there was no tomorrow, he shoved down any second thoughts as item after item of clothing was removed. He closed his eyes as too thick lube slicked fingers pressed inside him, stretching him open. He didn’t let his discomfort show. He wanted this to be good for both of them; the least he could do was make it good for Dave. He rocked his hips back, digging the foreign cock deeper inside as Dave wrapped a hand around Blaine’s waist to grasp his length, stroking him towards a climax that felt as unsatisfying as Coach Sue’s protein shake diet he’d been forced to endure during his stint as a Cheerio. Not that having sex with Dave was nearly as awful as wearing that humiliating thong, but still.

Dave smiled at him tenderly as he bathed in the afterglow, tracing a finger down the side of Blaine’s face. “Ready for that pizza now?”

The smile didn’t falter from Blaine’s face, but his stomach flipped, revolting at the idea of eating right now. “I’m not that hungry. I should be going anyway, I have an early start tomorrow, set lists and choreography and all that.”

“Right…” Dave said with a tinge of sadness in his voice that made Blaine feel horrible and ashamed, but all he could think about was getting clothes on and getting the hell out of there. “Take some home with you in case you get hungry later, okay?” Irrational anger surged in his chest; why couldn’t Dave just call him out on his behavior already? Why did have have to be so fucking nice about all this, caring if Blaine ate and everything. It wasn’t fair.

“Sure,” Blaine replied, scrambling for his clothing, feeling surprisingly modest for someone who just had a dick stuck up his ass. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Dave replied in that same strangled tone. Blaine pressed a kiss to Dave’s forehead before rushing out of the bedroom, throwing a few slices of pizza he had no intention of eating into a ziplock baggie just to make Dave happy before making his way out to his car. He shifted into drive quickly, though he only made it a few blocks before he was forced to pull over, the tears he rejected earlier finally hitting him at full force.

He felt dirty. He hadn’t felt this awful since...since he cheated on Kurt. But he wasn’t with Kurt, he was with Dave. He had done nothing wrong. Except measure all the ways Dave wasn’t and could never be Kurt. The worst part was that he couldn’t tell what upset him more; feeling like he had betrayed Dave or Kurt. For the second time that night, Blaine quickly dialed a familiar number.

“Blaine?” the sleepy voice asked in confusion.

“Caroline? I’m sorry to call so late, but you said if I ever had an emergency…” he hiccupped, his voice going frantic with every word, broken only by his uncontrollable sobs. “I really need to talk to someone.”

“Can you make it to my office Blaine?” the therapist asked.

He nodded before remembering she couldn’t see him. “I think so.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes, okay? Just hang in there buddy, we’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you so much,” Blaine sighed in relief, slumping down into his seat. He had been doing so well. He thought he knew what he wanted. He thought he was adjusting. Apparently moving on wasn’t as easy as it looked. Somehow, that thought both sent sharp stabbing pains into his chest as well as a feeling of reassurance.

No matter how furious or how hurt he was, apparently letting go of Kurt Hummel was hard to do. And the more he thought about it...he didn’t really want to.

 


End file.
